


Patron of the Arts

by sweetbutterbliss



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Anal Sex, First Meetings, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Stranger Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 10:14:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1030493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetbutterbliss/pseuds/sweetbutterbliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur wasn't the type of guy to beat around the bush, when he wanted something, he made sure he got it. He'd never been particularly interested in the games couples play; the flirty dance that leads up to the first date, or the awkward kisses and fumbling gropes. If Arthur wanted to have sex with you, you knew about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patron of the Arts

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [ Heather. ](http://theshorteststack.tumblr.com/)
> 
> My word of the day was 'troubadour' and I was like, Troubadour!Eames, then I was like, wait no, Street Artist!Eames and then I just wrote some porn. So here it is.

Arthur passed by the same square everyday on his way to work. It was a tiny space between buildings that artists had taken over to hawk their wares. It was a mixed bag, you could buy hand made jewelry, or get one of those giant head caricatures of yourself for five bucks, and there was always some dirty hippie playing his guitar. Arthur would sometimes slow down so he could glance at what was for sale, but he never stopped. His coffee clutched in one hand, briefcase in another, he'd speed up again; all thoughts of art forgotten as he ran numbers and meeting notes in his head the rest of the way.

 

Arthur's mornings carried on in this vein until the day his eyes caught a beautiful painting, propped up against a fold out table. It was of the ocean, or at least that's what Arthur saw in the chaotic blues and sea foam greens swirled across the canvas. He slowed down until he came to a complete stop in front of it. It reminded him of summers spent on the beach, his parents watching from the shore as Arthur and his sister would race the waves, shrieking and laughing when one caught them and knocked them down. He hadn't thought of those days in forever. He was about as far from any kind of vacation as an overworked corporate man could be.

 

"Hello, love. Can I help you?" A rough British accent broke through Arthur's fog. He suddenly felt sheepish, standing there in his three piece suit, places to be, staring at a random painting.

 

"Um. No. Thank you though. This is beautiful. I just got distracted." Arthur smiled nervously at the other man. Who, if truth be told, was just as distracting as the painting. He was breathtaking, with sandy colored hair, grey (maybe green) eyes, and a plush mouth that made Arthur remember other things that he hadn't thought about in a long time. He wondered how that mouth, and all that stubble, would feel on his naked skin.

 

"Why thank you, darling. Can I interest you in a purchase?" The man smirked and licked his lips.

 

"No. I have to get to work. Thanks, though." Arthur started walking backwards, and the artist smiled and waved, turning back to his easel.

 

***

 

Arthur couldn't stop thinking about his strange encounter that morning. Part of him wanted that painting to keep, and continue to stir up happy memories. Mostly he couldn't stop thinking about its creator though. He'd spent a lot of time alone, and he'd almost forgotten that he has a libido. Until now. He'd actually jerked off in the bathroom at work to the thought of the stranger's broad shoulders, and tattooed biceps. He'd felt a little guilty as he washed his hands and went back to work, but he'd been able to concentrate better afterwards.

 

Arthur wasn't the type of guy to beat around the bush, when he wanted something, he made sure he got it. He'd never been particularly interested in the games couples play; the flirty dance that leads up to the first date, or the awkward kisses and fumbling gropes. If Arthur wanted to have sex with you, you knew about it.

 

He wasn't an asshole about it or anything, he just appreciated honest communication and he assumed other people did too.

 

All of Friday night he had dreams about the ocean, and arms holding him down in the sand. He woke up with a painful hard on. After his breakfast, and a few cups of coffee, he decided to see if the little square was open on Saturdays too. He went casual; jeans and a button up, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He kept his hair loose, letting it curl down around his collar, even though he knew it made him look about seventeen. 

 

He got off at the stop right before the weather changed, the sky turning dark, and the wind whipping his hair off his forehead. He spotted the man right away, crating up his canvases and gathering up the rest of his supplies with his back to Arthur.

 

"Hey." Arthur called to get his attention.

 

The man turned and took Arthur in, his face lighting up with a smile. "The suit! From yesterday?"

 

Arthur nodded, helplessly smiling back. "Arthur." He held out his hand.

 

"Eames." They shook hands, Eames holding eye contact and not letting go of his hand for a long moment. Arthur blushed and looked down.

 

"Well Arthur, it's lovely to meet you, but I'm a bit busy at the moment." Eames gestured to the sky, and to his half covered paintings.

 

"I can help, and then take you out to lunch if you're interested." Arthur gave Eames the smile that was always guaranteed to get people to do things...specifically sexy street artists to take off their pants. No one could resist the dimples. 

 

Eames laughed and nodded. "Alright then, help me carry this stuff to the van, and since you twisted my arm, I'd be happy to let you buy me lunch."

 

"I _am_ a patron of the arts you know." Arthur licked his lips, and helped carry things back and forth.

 

The task might've been completed a little quicker if he hadn't spent half the time watching Eames' ass when he bent over, or the flex in his biceps as he lifted. Arthur wished they could skip lunch, but he wasn't a heathen or anything. The least he could do was buy the man a sandwich.

 

***

 

They just got everything settled when the rain came crashing down. They were both immediately soaked to the skin. Laughing, Eames gestured for Arthur to get in the passenger seat, and hauled himself in the other side.

 

"So, you're from England?" Arthur asked, as he watched Eames adjust the air until heat was blasting at him.

 

"That's right, London."

 

"Should I trust you to drive? I mean, do you know which side to stay on and all that?" Arthur teased.

 

"You bloody wanker. Just because your country does everything backwards doesn't mean that I can't adapt. I'm very flexible." He raised an eyebrow at Arthur at that last remark.

 

Arthur swallowed, and hoped his cheeks weren't as red as they felt.

 

"May I make a suggestion, darling?" Eames was slowly backing out into the street.

 

"Sure, suggest away."

 

"Well, we aren't actually fit for public until we dry out. I have a flat right around the corner, and some dry clothes. "

 

Arthur nodded so hard he might have given himself whiplash. He tried to keep his mind on unsexy things, like Bea Arthur and tax forms. But by the time they pulled into Eames parking spot, he already had half a hard on just from listening to Eames talk.

 

They dashed to Eames' door, getting further soaked in the process. Eames let them in, apologizing about the mess.

 

"I think I have some sweats that might fit you if you want them?" Eames asked, heading towards the back of the tiny flat.

 

"Yeah, sure...sweats." Arthur followed him into the bedroom, happy to see that it was a little tidier than the rest of the house. The bed made neatly and no paints scattered around the floor.

 

Eames dug through some drawers and pulled out a pair of green sweatpants, tossing them at Arthur. Arthur left them on the bed and pulled his shirt over his head. Dropping it on the floor, he toed of his shoes and unbuckled his belt. He pushed his jeans and underwear off in one motion, stepping out of them, and looking up at Eames.

 

Eames was standing against the dresser with his mouth hanging open. He licked his lips and swallowed. Arthur cocked out one hip, grinning.

 

"Aren't you going to change?"

 

"Yes, darling. " He still didn't take anything off, but stepped closer to Arthur, reaching out and touching his hips tentatively. He squeezed, and pulled Arthur closer to him. "Is this what you meant by lunch?" He leaned down and licked rainwater off of Arthur's neck. Arthur moaned and arched up against Eames, his cock fully hard and pressed against Eames' zipper. He tugged at Eames t-shirt.

 

"Take it off." He demanded, gasping for air.

 

"Patience, love." Eames grasped Arthur's chin and tilted his head back, he brushed his lips against Arthur's, his tongue pressing in and licking at the corners of Arthur's mouth. Arthur pressed back with a moan, his hands clutching at Eames' waistband. Eames stepped back and stripped his shirt off, his jeans quickly following.

 

He stroked his cock lightly, smirking at a dazed looking, and heavily panting, Arthur. Eames pulled him back against his chest, both gasping as their cocks rubbed together. Eames whirled Arthur around until his back was against Eames' chest. He pushed his cock up against Arthur's ass cheeks and began sliding back and forth, up and down. Arthur groaned and thrust back against it, Eames' pre-come quickly making the slide easier.

 

"Fuck me, Eames. Please, I need your cock inside me." Arthur had a hand on his own erection, squeezing it at the base, milking a few drops of pre-come out and using them to slick his hand down its length.

 

Eames nipped at the back of Arthur's neck before pushing him down face first onto the bed.

 

"Up." He slapped Arthur's ass, watching as it turned red. Arthur lay with his hands next to his head, his forehead against the comforter, and his ass in the air. He gasped wetly as he begged Eames to fuck him. He heard Eames open and close a drawer, then the cap of the lube clicking open. He felt wet fingers probing against his hole and pushed back against them, two fingers popping in as Eames laughed, his voice low and hoarse.

 

"Eager, darling?" Eames scissored his fingers, dribbling more lube down the crack of Arthur's ass as he added a third finger. Arthur bucked and keened underneath him every time he crooked his fingers and grazed his prostate.

 

"That's enough. I'm ready. I want you to fuck me." Arthur managed to gasp out, still giving a little moan of protest as Eames' fingers left him. He heard the crinkle of foil, and then the lube cap again. He felt Eames' strong arms around his waist, and gave a surprised shout when Eames swung him around and settled him into his lap facing outward, his back against Eames' chest. Eames manhandled him, spreading his legs over Eames' thick thighs so that Arthur could only just reach the floor with his toes. It hurt a little stretched out like this, but he forgot any pain when he felt Eames' slick cock pushing against his hole. He used his arms as leverage, pushing himself back and down until Eames bottomed out. He shifted his hips until he got used to the full feeling. Eames was groaning into the back of Arthur's neck while he waited for the go-ahead to move. Arthur couldn't lift himself very high so he settled for grinding his ass down as he rolled his hips. His cock bounced wetly against his stomach as he moved. He felt vunerable, stretched wide and open across Eames' lap. It turned him on more than he thought it would, Eames' hands being free to roam across Arthur's front. He pinched Arthur's nipples into hard nubs, and used his other hand to slide down Arthur's flat stomach and grip his neglected cock. He stroked a few times, and Arthur let his head fall back onto Eames' shoulder, lifting himself up a fraction and dropping back down with a roll of his hips. They were both gasping and moaning as Eames grunted in his ear. "Ready, love?"

 

Before Arthur could answer, Eames braced his feet on the floor, gripped Arthur's hips with both hands to lift him up, held him there, and began fucking him with earnest. As Eames snapped his hips up in sharp thrusts, Arthur was helpless to move; being held up by all that strength had him writhing in pleasure. Moaning Eames name over and over, he could feel his balls tightening, but couldn't maneuver enough to get a hand around his cock. Eames changed the angle a bit and caught the edge of Arthur's prostate, sending him over the edge; he came untouched and his vision whited out. When he came to, he was on his back with Eames above him, holding his legs up and slamming into his ass. He slammed in one final time, and came with a muffled moan and his face buried in Arthur's sweaty shoulder. He collapsed on top of Arthur with a little pleased sound.

 

After a few minutes of lazing around, and catching their breath, Eames got up and disappeared into the bathroom to dispose of the condom. He returned with a washcloth and helped clean Arthur up. Arthur was completely fucked out and all he wanted was to curl up and sleep. He must have said as much, because Eames laughed, pushed him up further onto the bed until his head was on the pillow. Eames lay on his side next to Arthur, and hooked an arm around his waist; pulling him in and tucking him up against his shoulder. Before Arthur fell asleep, he sighed happily and kissed Eames' arm.

 

"I really should have become a patron of the arts sooner."

 

He fell asleep to the sound of Eames' rumbling laughter, looking forward to more of the same when he woke up

**Author's Note:**

> My [ tumblr! ](http://sweetbutterbliss.tumblr.com/)


End file.
